


Dreams Of Gentle Blue

by watanuki_sama



Series: Shards Of Quantum Glass [9]
Category: Common Law (TV)
Genre: Background WesAlexTravis if you squint, Drowning, F/F, Sort of a reverse Little Mermaid I suppose, mermaid au, turning into a mermaid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 18:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17834171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watanuki_sama/pseuds/watanuki_sama
Summary: Apparently, it turns out sheisliving in a remake ofThe Little Mermaidafter all.





	Dreams Of Gentle Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on FF.net under the penname 'EFAW' on 02.17.19.
> 
>  
> 
> PROMPT: Mermaids

_“She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of the horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel small, but free as well.”_   
_—George R.R. Martin, A Storm Of Swords_

\---

Everything is blue. Not a harsh blue, like a cloudless summer sky, or a cold blue like a cloudy, rainy day, but a bright, warm blue, full of life and light and joy.

There is no joy right now. She swims through the water, silver bubbles exploding around her as she kicks faster, faster. Desperation makes her throat tight; fear makes her push even harder.

_Please,_ she begs, _please let me be in time._

Below her, a body slowly sinks…

\---

Amy blinks awake, the soft _shush, shush_ of waves floating in through the open window. She doesn’t know what’s more disorienting—the fact that she’s not underwater, or the pale yellow ceiling above her, unfamiliar and strange.

Somewhere outside, a seagull squawks. Downstairs, there’s the soft murmur of voices.

Slowly, Amy sits up, running her fingers through sleep-tangled hair. What an odd dream. She still feels like she’s underwater.

Though, considering what happened yesterday, maybe not such an odd dream after all.

She climbs out of bed, stretching languidly. There’s no clock in here, but the sun is high enough to suggest it’s almost noon. Half a day wasted in bed, but it’s not like there’s anything urging her awake any earlier.

Amy sighs, rubbing her hands over her face, and heads for the bathroom.

She sees it as she’s stepping into the shower. Amy pauses, frowning, then stands on her tiptoes, angling her hip so she can see it in the mirror over the sink. On the round part of her hip, there’s a dry, scaly patch of skin, reddened under her fingertips. A rash? Now how did she get that?

Amy sighs once more and shakes her head, stepping into the shower. “So much for wearing a bikini, today.”

\---

There are three people in the kitchen when she comes down, all clustered around the table playing Uno. Travis is the first to notice her, looking up with a warm, welcoming smile. “Sleeping Beauty awakes.”

“Wrong fairy tale,” Alex says, setting a yellow 4 onto the pile. “This is clearly _The Little Mermaid_.”

“Except I don’t remember a beautiful mermaid rescuing me when I was drowning.” Amy steps into the room, hovering awkwardly by the table. There’s no seat for her, no place at their table. Not that there _should_ be, of course—but still. They look cozy, circled around the table, and playing cards with a group of friends would be nice.

Wes folds his hand onto the table and rises, moving toward the refrigerator. “Would you like something to eat?” he offers, opening the fridge door. “We have a lot.”

Amy shakes her head. “I think I’d better get back.” She doesn’t want to overstay her welcome—even the one night she spent over feels like too much.

Three pairs of worried eyes train on her. “Are you sure?” Alex says, eyebrows drawing together. “You don’t have to go.”

Amy just smiles a little, stepping back toward the door. “Maybe we can set something up later, get together. That would be fun.”

She leaves feeling their eyes trained on her back, watching her every step.

\---

The cottage is on a quiet little stretch of beach. It’s nice, in some ways—this is a private beach, no tourists or screaming kids running around. Just cottage after cottage, close enough to see the next house over, but secluded enough to pretend you’re alone if that’s how you want it.

Her parents’ beach house—her beach house, now, she supposes—isn’t just alone here, it looks _lonely_. Amy runs her hand up the painted railing, the shade of the porch almost chilly after walking in the sun. If she looks over her shoulder, she can see the other cottage, can imagine the three of them laughing around the table.

Amy pushes open the front door, and the silence of the house greets her. She flips on a light, but it doesn’t dissipate the gloom of the house. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long—she hasn’t been back here since she was a child, when her parents decided not to come during the summer. In fact, if it hadn’t been for her parents’ sudden death just a few months ago, Amy wouldn’t have even known they kept the old beach house.

So many memories here, tucked in the walls and behind the furniture. Amy lingers in the front hall, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her. It’s too much. Just…too much.

Without a word, she turns and goes back outside, into the sun and the splash of the waves on the sand.

\---

She met the group in the other cottage while walking along the beach, just like she’s doing now. They’d been splashing in the surf, a riotous, rowdy bunch, and when they saw her they waved and invited her to join them. That was a couple of weeks ago; since then, she’s joined them for meals and outings into town and just hanging out, and it’s been nice.

Yesterday, Travis thought it would be a good idea to rent a boat, and they’d invited Amy to join them. It had been going well, until a squall came up out of nowhere, rocking the boat and tossing Amy into the water. She’d sunk farther and farther, too turned around to find the surface, and she’d been certain she was going to drown—

And then she woke up on the beach, in a private little cove, with no memory of getting there.

This isn’t the first time she’s nearly drowned. When she was a child, she went into the water and didn’t come out. A kind beachgoer found her unconscious, seven miles from where she’d disappeared with no memory of how she got there. It must have been the current, they said, that carried her so far away, and she was just lucky it deposited her on the beach instead of dragging her out to sea.

After that, her parents didn’t let her in the water, and they never came back to the beach house again.

It was so long ago, the first time she almost drowned, that she can’t remember if she had any dreams afterward.

\---

The cove she woke up in is only a mile or two down the beach, a tiny stretch of sand sheltered on three sides by trees and an outcropping of rocks. It’s utterly private—people rarely come this far down the beach. Amy squeezes through a couple of trees and emerges on the other side, standing quietly in the sun.

If she thought being here, where she woke up after almost drowning, would trigger something unpleasant, she was wrong. She feels calm, peaceful. _Safe_. Like nothing could ever touch here, in this tiny little cove.

Amy smiles, kicks off her sandals, and steps into the waves, shivering as the cool water sweeps around her ankles. Now this—this is what a beach vacation should be like, just her and the waves and the sky above. Not that she hasn’t enjoyed hanging out with Wes and Travis and Alex, but the three friends can be tiring—and rather insular. She’s not part of their group, and sometimes, she definitely feels it.

Here, it’s just her, and it’s lovely.

Amy wades in a little deeper, closing her eyes and humming happily. She’s always loved the water, despite drowning once or twice in her life. She was devastated when her parents stopped bringing her here during the summer. And now…

Well, she could live on the beach, now, if she really wanted. All by herself in a tiny house by the sea. That’s…

There’s a splash to her right. Amy’s eyes snap open, head whipping around. She thought she was alone; she squints suspiciously at the rocks. She doesn’t see anyone—no, wait, there! A flash of gold in the sun.

“Hello?” she calls, moving through the water towards the rocky outcropping. “Is someone there?”

Nothing happens. The glint of gold doesn’t reappear.

“Who are you? Come out!”

Slowly, behind one of the rocks, there’s a hint of movement, and the golden glint resolves itself into wavy golden hair. A woman slowly peers at her over the rock, eyes wide and surprisingly blue, long fingers wrapped around the top of the rock.

Amy’s first thought is, _Not some creepy weirdo, good,_ and she relaxes.

Her second thought is, _I know you._

She frowns, inching close. “Hello. Are you staying nearby?”

But when she takes another step forward, the woman behind the rocks ducks underwater, with a splash Amy can see from here.

Amy paddles through the water as quickly as she can, peering around the rock, but the woman is gone, no trace of her left behind. She frowns, looking out at the open sea, the only possible place the woman could have disappeared to.

“Well,” she says to no one, “That was strange.”

\---

The woman isn’t one of the people living on the beach; Amy knows everyone there. And she’s not someone from town, Amy knows almost everyone and she would have heard rumors about someone new moving in.

She supposes the woman could be a new renter, just arrived, but…

There’s something about her. Amy feels like she knows the blonde woman. She just can’t place it.

She stares at the bright blue ceiling above her head, trying to catch the vague edges of memories, and when she falls asleep, she dreams of blue.

\---

Everything is blue, calm and serene. Even the body still floating gently downward carries a sense of serenity. Arms have stopped moving frantically, and legs have stopped kicking, and dark eyes have closed. There’s a sense of peacefulness there, of something frantic being laid to rest.

She is frantic, now, pushing herself even faster, reaching out. _I’m not too late, I can’t be too late._

She wraps one hand around a limp wrist, pulling the body against her, clutches a motionless waist. _I’m not too late,_ and she kicks towards the surface. Just a little farther, and then…and then—

She bursts into air, waiting, but the body in her arms doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe.

No. No no _no_.

It is _not_ too late.

\---

Amy stares at the ceiling a long time without seeing it. Her mind runs in a loop, caught on the same thought again and again. 

It was _her_.

The body in her dreams, floating still and silent in the water. It was her.

She has no idea what that means.

\---

The rash has spread, moving down to the top of her thigh. A small patch has started on her other hip, too. The skin is red but it doesn’t hurt, and it feels scaly under her fingers.

\---

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Alex says, spearing a strawberry with her fork. “Is everything alright?”

Amy looks up, blinking. It’s just the two women on the porch right now—Wes and Travis are on the beach right now, attempting to drown each other in the waves, it looks like. The girls decided to leave the boys to their fun and relax in the shade with drinks and snacks.

“I’m fine,” Amy says, looking back down at her bowl and poking at her fruit salad. Her mind, though, is preoccupied with her dream, with the vision of herself sinking down and down and down, and someone frantically trying to save her.

She looks up again. “The other day, when I fell off the boat…did someone save me?”

Alex pauses, frowning a little. “We don’t know. By the time the storm settled and we were ready to call the Coast Guard in, you were back on shore. We didn’t see anything.” She tilts her head, studying Amy speculatively. “Do you remember someone being there?”

When they asked, she told them she couldn’t remember anything between falling in the water and waking up on the beach, and it was the truth. But the dreams…

Amy frowns, twirling her fork in her fingers. “I don’t know. I…” She shakes her head. “It’s probably just a weird dream.”

Alex reaches out, her hand light on Amy’s wrist. “If there’s something on your mind, you can always talk to us about it.” She gives Amy’s arm a little squeeze, supportive and gentle.

Amy smiles sweetly and says, “Thank you,” and knows she won’t say a thing.

\---

The little cove is just as empty today as it was yesterday. At least, it _looks_ empty. But it had looked that way yesterday too.

Amy wades into the water, sarong swirling around her legs, and studies the rocks. “Hello?” She takes a few steps forward, seawater lapping at her belly. “Are you there?”

There’s a splash. Not from the rocks, but from the other direction, out from the ocean. Amy turns, and the same blonde woman from yesterday is there, treading water silently.

_I know you,_ Amy thinks. But from where?

“Who are you?”

The woman doesn’t answer right away. She stares at Amy, studying her, like she can see right through her. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” Amy blinks. “I…yes. I’m fine.”

“Good.” The blonde smiles, swimming closer. Amy catches a glimpse of glittering chartreuse. “I’m glad you’re safe now.”

There’s such relieved affection in the words, Amy is momentarily taken aback. “Um…thank you.” She doesn’t know why this woman would be so invested in her well-being, unless… “Was it you? Did you save me the other day?”

The woman nods, and swims a little closer. Familiarity niggles at Amy’s brain. “Who _are_ you?”

“You don’t remember?” The woman comes closer still, swimming in a lazy circle around Amy’s legs. The chartreuse glimmering behind her resolves itself into—

No way. No _way_.

Something cold brushes her leg—smooth and pebbled, but not slimy. “My name is Kate.”

Numb, Amy says, “I used to have an imaginary friend named Kate.” A beat. “She was a mermaid too.”

And the woman smiles with teeth like a shark, eyes bright. “I know.”

\---

When she was a child, Amy’s parents would drag her out to the beach house every year. There weren’t a lot of other kids her age around, so she spent most of her time on her own, walking on the beach and exploring tide pools.

That was where she met the mermaid, in a quiet little cove surrounded by trees, with a rocky outcropping on one side. The mermaid, with blonde hair and a bright green tail, had been lying on the beach, a bit of net wrapped around her fins. Amy, using Girl Scout ingenuity, found a broken piece of shell and cut the net away. And the mermaid smiled and said, “My name is Kate.”

That was the start of the best summer of Amy’s childhood. Every day, if only for an hour, she’d sneak away to the cove to play with Kate, her own secret friend in their secret part of the beach.

Then came the drowning scare, and her parents refused to let her go to the beach without supervision anymore. She couldn’t sneak away to the cove, and she never saw Kate again.

By the time they left at the end of the summer, Amy was half-convinced she’d made the whole thing up, gone and created a best friend so she wouldn’t be lonely. As she got older, the memory of that summer faded and faded some more, until she was an adult, smiling fondly at the imaginative child she used to be.

\---

Apparently, it turns out she _is_ living in a remake of _The Little Mermaid_ after all.

\---

Everything is blue, and she explodes from the water, desperation making her heart pound in her chest. Frantically, she swims as fast as she can, careful not to jostle the still form in her arms. She’s afraid she’s not fast enough; she’s afraid she’s too late.

Finally, she makes it to the cove, swimming straight for the beach. She keeps going until the water turns shallow, until every kick scrapes the sandy bottom and she has to drag herself out of the water with her arms.

Gently, delicately, she lays the body down, staring at the pale, still face. “Breathe,” she whispers, hoping, but the body doesn’t breathe.

\---

The two spots on her hips are the same size now. Amy goes and buys a lotion with antihistimine, just in case it’s some sort of allergic reaction. It doesn’t seem to help much.

\---

Amy lays on her inner tube, staring at the lone cloud in the sky. She can’t decide if her mind is racing or stuck on a single thought—either way, it all comes down to the mermaid.

Kate the mermaid. Her imaginary friend from childhood, who saved her when she almost drowned. A _mermaid_. How is this even possible?

(“Am I dreaming?” she’d asked in a daze, staring at the glimmering green tail, close enough to touch.

And Kate had laughed, eyes dancing. “Do you feel like you’re dreaming?”)

It doesn’t _feel_ like a dream. Kate was as real as Amy. This has to be real. It has to be.

But _mermaids_.

\---

Maybe it’s not so strange, she decides later. Being in this old house where she grew up is bound to bring up some childhood fantasies.

Maybe she’s going a little bit crazy, imagining mermaids where there are none. If so, there’s no one who will know. Amy lives in a little house at the end of the beach, and her closest neighbors will be gone by the end of the summer.

And if she’s not crazy, if Kate is very real, then Amy is just the lucky one who gets to find out that mermaids really do exist. She can be okay with that.

\---

During the day, it’s easy to slip away for a few hours and go to the little cove, wading in the water to talk to Kate. She spends more time in the cove with the mermaid than she does with her neighbors. While she likes Wes and Alex and Travis, whenever she’s over there she can’t help feeling like a third wheel, somehow lonely even when she’s not alone; when she’s with Kate, she never feels like that.

One night, long after the sun has gone down and stars dot the sky, Amy lies awake in bed, and the loneliness eats at her. The beach house is so silent and still, the shadows pressing in on her, and it makes her ache.

Quietly, she gets out of bed, slips out of her pajamas into beachwear, and wanders down the beach.

She doesn’t know why she comes to the cove. Surely Kate is asleep, wherever mermaids sleep. There’s going to be no one there. But Amy still comes, standing on the sand with the waves lapping her toes, staring out at the water.

After a few minutes, there’s a quiet splash, and a sheen of something moving. A moment later, Kate crests the water before her, only a few feet of water separating thing.

“Amy?” Kate asks, looking as though she wants nothing more than to crawl out of the water and grab her, if she could. “Is everything alright?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Amy hugs herself, trying not to sound too desperate. “Can we talk?”

And Kate smiles softly and nods, and Amy feels the loneliness ease away.

\---

It’s easy to rekindle their friendship. It’s been so long, but falling right back is as simple as breathing. It’s easy to talk to Kate, easier, in some ways, than talking to her human neighbors. There’s no bubble she has to enter to be noticed, no feelings of awkwardness or like she’s just walked in on something intimate. There’s just her and Kate, and Amy doesn’t think she’s ever been so comfortable with another person in her life.

It’s so easy to be with Kate, she doesn’t even notice she’s spending more and more time with the mermaid instead of the people around her.

\---

“Thank you for saving me,” she says quietly after dinner one night. She dangles her feet in the water, idly making ripples. “I didn’t get a chance to say that before.”

Kate sits on a rock nearby, her tail in the water like Amy’s feet. “You’re welcome.” Then she smiles, ducking her head. “You saved me, you know.”

Amy starts. “I did? _When?”_

“When you were young. You cut a net from my tail so I could swim.”

“And then you saved me from drowning.”

Kate nods, but Amy frowns and shakes her head. “No, I mean, that was you then, too, wasn’t it? You saved me when I was a kid.” There are too many similarities between this time and the last, too many things that match up. And Kate was there last time too.

Kate slowly inclines her head. “Yes.”

Amy splashes her feet, sending up a rainbow shimmer of water drops. “If I saved you from the net, and you saved me from drowning when I was a kid, then I’d call that even. So why save me now?”

The blonde shrugs, flipping her fins and splashing water into the air. “We’re friends.”

“But it’s been so long. We were just kids,” Amy says, surprised. “We’re still friends?”

Equally surprised, Kate says, “Do you think we’re not?”

Amy draws her knees to her chest, biting back a small smile. “No. I, uh…I’d like to be your friend.”

The mermaid smiles, and her laugh is bright and full of joy. “Me too.”

\---

Wes and Alex and Travis invite her over for dinner. It’s a perfectly lovely dinner, food and conversation and company. But Amy feels disconnected from it, somehow.

Maybe it’s because the three of them are so close-knit, intimate in a way she can’t penetrate. Even when they’re inviting her company, she’s still an outsider. Still all alone.

They offer coffee and dessert afterwards, but she politely declines. She walks the beach, watching the waves whisper across the sand, black in the dark of night.

Somehow, it’s not a surprise to find herself back in that little private cove. “Kate?” she calls softly. “Are you there?”

Like she was summoned, the blonde pops out of the water, a beautiful apparition bathed in moonlight. She smiles softly, eyes luminescent. “You called?”

Amy smiles and wades into the water.

\---

Everything is blue, lips like bruised grapes and skin pale as fresh-kissed snow. She leans over the still form and listens, holding her breath as though that will incite it, but the chest doesn’t move. The body doesn’t breathe.

_No,_ she thinks, biting her lip. Sharp teeth cut through skin, drawing blood, but she doesn’t notice. _No, this isn’t happening._

She leans over, staring sternly at the face below her on the sand. “You will _breathe_ ,” she orders, desperation making her voice ring with fervent belief. “You _will_ breathe!”

She leans down, seals their mouths together. And she breathes.

\---

Amy wakes with the taste of salt on her lips.

\---

Her legs itch. She scratches at the red patches on her hips, frowning into the mirror. The skin is starting to peel up, and nothing seems to help it, none of the ointments or lotions she’s tried. She’s never seen anything like this before.

Amy sighs and secures her sarong more firmly around her waist, and she tells herself not to scratch. She’s not very successful.

\---

Travis starts the water fight, pulling Wes down with a challenging roar. Wes retaliates by leaping onto Travis’s back and dunking him under, the two of them thrashing like little boys underwater. Amy laughs, an outsider until Alex pushes her off her inner tube, and then the war is _on_.

Amy is holding her own, but she knows she’s in trouble when Wes and Travis team up. They take out Alex in a matter of seconds, and when they turn on her, she ducks underwater to make her escape.

She sinks to the sandy bottom, nine, ten feet down, stirring up sand and muck with her hands. It’s a delaying tactic only, she’s never been able to hold her breath for more than a minute, but maybe she can get the jump on them, win the splash war in a surprise ambush.

She waits, lurking on the bottom of the ocean until her lungs start to ache. She can see the others, up on the surface, gathering in a circle. Perfect. She can come up in the middle, douse them all and win. Grinning to herself, she plants her feet on the bottom and pushes up.

She arrows perfectly through the water, exploding in the center of the trio with a yell as water douses them. “I think this means I win, right?” she crows, wriggling in the water.

It takes a minute to realize that the others aren’t laughing, or even smiling. Amy pauses, looking at the pale, worried faces surrounding her. “What? What’s wrong?”

Travis swallows, looking shaken. “We—we thought you drowned again.”

Amy laughs, nervous disbelief in her voice. “What? Guys, come on, I know we had a scare the other day but you don’t have to freak out every time I go underwater.” The fear on their faces doesn’t dissipate; her chuckle is a little weaker this time. “Guys, _really?_ I was only under for like forty-five seconds.”

Alex swims to her side, touching her arm like she can’t quite believe Amy is real. “Amy,” she says, voice trembling. “You were under for five minutes.”

\---

The skin on her hip peels up when she scratches, and her fingers brush over something smooth, and slightly pebbled. When she looks in the mirror, all she can do is stare.

In the middle of her rash, shining a bright violet-blue, are scales. Bigger than any fish scale she’s seen, gleaming in the bathroom lights.

She gapes. “What the _hell?”_

\---

“Kate?” Amy splashes into the water, frowning at the waves. “Kate! I know you’re there. Come out!” She wades in up to her waist, hands on her hips. “Kate!”

The mermaid pops out of the water with a smile. “Hello.”

Amy doesn’t return to smile. “What’s happening to me?”

Kate’s brow furrows, smile slipping. “What’s happening?” she parrots. “I don’t know…?”

“Oh, right, because it’s complete coincidence I held my breath for five minutes this afternoon,” Amy snaps, fear making her sharp. She yanks the edge of her sarong down. “And _these_ are a coincidence too, right?”

Kate’s eyes widen, and her fingers brush gently over the scales on Amy’s hip. “I didn’t know this would happen.”

“So you _do_ know what’s going on.” Amy looks at the scales on her legs and begs, “Tell me,” even though she’s almost afraid to know.

Kate doesn’t look up, intently studying the purple-blue scales. “You’re becoming like me.”

“A mermaid?” Amy wants to laugh, but she’s afraid if she starts it will just become hysterical. “I’m turning into a _mermaid?”_

The blonde draws away, looking apologetic and unhappy. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t intend this.”

“I just…” Amy shakes her head, looking down at herself. “How is this even possible?”

“It’s how there are always more mermaids,” Kate sighs softly. “We are made, not born. You were full of the sea, and then I gave you my breath and my blood. It was too much, and the change started.”

Amy’s stomach clenches, and she draws back. “Is there any way to stop it?”

“Of course.” Kate smiles, and it’s the saddest thing Amy’s ever seen. “Stay out of the sea. Away from the water, the effects will fade until they’re gone.”

Amy tries not to seem like she’s scrambling out of the surf as fast as possible, even though that’s exactly what she’s doing. Kate watches her sadly, and she doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll…I’ll see you later,” Amy says awkwardly. But she knows it won’t be that easy. Amy can’t go into the water anymore, and Kate, well, Kate can _only_ be in the water.

It looks like this is goodbye.

Amy turns away from the water, walking up the beach. She can feel Kate’s eyes on her every step of the way, but she doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t let herself.

\---

One good thing about staying out of the water is that it cuts down on the concerned, anxious looks the others send her way. Geez, almost drown once and they act like she can’t even swim.

But it is helping, staying on the beach. After three days, the scales on her legs are fading, receding back under her skin, until the flesh on her hips is rough and pebbled but _normal_.

It’s better this way. Amy is human. She doesn’t need to be a mermaid.

It’s totally fine. And, okay, maybe she felt more comfortable with Kate than she ever has with the others. Maybe the most memorable parts of her stay here have been when she was talking late into the night with Kate. Maybe there’s a bond there, one left over from when she was a child, and rekindling that was as easy as saying hello.

Maybe, just maybe, Amy feels lonely when she can’t see Kate.

But it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing she can do about it. If she doesn’t want to become a mermaid, then she can’t go into the water. It’s as simple as that.

\---

Everything is blue. Blue, the water that spills from a choking throat and the relief she feels as the body below her coughs, convulses, spits up water. _Thank you_ , she wants to sob, and she bows her head and smiles helplessly.

Eventually, water stops being choked up, and exhaustion sets in. As dark eyes blink drowsily at the sky, she leans up on an elbow, running her hand down one familiar cheek. The features have matured with age, but it’s still the same face she remembers from childhood.

“I’d glad you’re alive,” she whispers, voice and body both thrumming with a gentle, sweet sort of love. “You’ll be safe now.”

She leans own, presses a chaste kiss to forehead. Then she’s gone, back into the water before that familiar gaze focuses on her.

\---

Everything is blue.

She dreams, and everything is blue.

\---

For a long time, Amy has felt adrift, floating through life, aimless and wandering without purpose. She thought that would eventually change, that somehow she would get the right job, meet the right people, and everything would snap back into place and she’d know where she was supposed to be. But it never happened.

She wasn’t always like this. She remembers being a child, feeling connected to the world and loving every second of it. Her strongest, clearest memories are those summer vacations to the beach house, running over the sand and splashing in the waves. She remembers feeling _alive_ back then, not as though she were simply bobbing along on the currents waiting for something to happen.

She’d hoped, somehow, that by coming back to this old house, she might regain some of that feeling. But now, she feels more lost than she ever did before.

\---

Alex sighs, leaning back in the patio chair. “I’m going to miss this,” she says wistfully, looking out at the sun setting over the beach. Down on the beach, Wes and Travis are chasing each other back and forth, tossing handfuls of sand at each other. Amy is continually amazed at the way those two act like children every time they get near one another.

So enthralled by the guys’ antics, it takes her a second for Alex’s words to sink in. “Wait, what?” Amy sits up, looking over at Alex. “Miss this?”

“Yeah.” Alex waves a hand in front of her. “This was amazing. But every good vacation has to end, I guess.”

That’s right. Not everyone inherited their dead parents’ beach house and can stay there indefinitely. Amy slowly sits back in her chair. “When are you guys leaving?”

“Friday.” Another wistful sigh. “We’ll definitely have to do this again, though. I’d love to come back. It’s so beautiful out here.” She glances over, one eyebrow going up. “What about you? Have you decided if you’re going to stay?”

“I don’t know.” Amy sighs, looks out over the water. She hasn’t really thought about it, hasn’t _wanted_ to think about it.

The truth of the matter is, she doesn’t know what she wants. It’s not like there’s much waiting for her if she leaves the beach house and this tiny town—her parents are dead, she doesn’t have any other family, and it’s not like she’s jumping with joy at the thought of going back to her job. But, on the other hand, there’s not that much here, either. If she stays, she’ll just be the lonely woman living in a house at the end of the beach.

For so long, she’s just been drifting, and now she’s spinning in the currents and she doesn’t know which way to go.

She stares at the water, glowing crimson in the light of the setting sun, and she thinks about what her life would be like either way, staying or leaving. Neither option really appeals.

Honestly, the most alive she’s ever felt was when she was a child, running along this beach. Ever since then, everything else has felt dull in comparison. The closest she’s ever gotten to that childhood feeling is this past summer, when she was—

Amy sits up with a sudden, surprised sound. Alex starts, and Amy hastily apologizes, rising to her feet. “Sorry, I just realized something. I have to go.”

“Amy.” Alex pauses her with a hand on her arm, looking concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.” Amy smiles, wide and true. “Better than, even. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

And before Alex can say another word, Amy leaps to the sand and goes running down the beach.

\---

The thing she realizes is that she doesn’t have anything left on land, nothing to go back to.

For the longest time she’s felt adrift, ever since she drowned as a child and woke up alone on a beach. Like maybe somehow a part of her got left in the water, and she never got it back.

But now the sea is inside of her, and she knows a mermaid who never makes her feel lonely, and Amy knows exactly what choice to make.

\---

“Kate!” Amy stands on the sands, squinting at the winter, sparkling with the last rosy glows of sunset. She swivels her head back and forth, peering at the rocks, at the open waters beyond. “Kate!”

For a long, brief moment that has her heart pounding painfully in her chest, Amy fears that Kate has swum out to the sea, never to return. What reason could she have for staying, if Amy abandoned her?

For a long minute, the water remains still, and no one answers her call, and Amy’s heart sinks.

“Kate!”

There’s a gentle splash, and the blonde appears, looking worried. “Amy? Is something wrong?”

A smile spreads across her face, and there’s really nothing wrong at all.

She kicks off her sandals, rushing into the water. Kate’s face changes from worried to downright concerned, and she swims forward into the shallows. They meet in the middle, Amy crashing into Kate and sending them both tumbling under the surface.

“Amy!” Kate demands, pulling them both above water. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Amy’s legs are itching like crazy and she can hold her breath for minutes on end, and none of it bothers her at all. Because she hasn’t once felt lonely when she was with Kate, and the most exhilarating moments of this summer, the moments that most remind her of her childhood joy, have been when she’s underwater.

“I’m fine!” she laughs, wrapping her arms around Kate’s neck. “Everything is absolutely fine!”

“Amy, the water.” Kate attempts to nudge her back to shore. “You have to get out of the water, or you’ll change.”

“I don’t care.” Amy continues to laugh, head thrown back. “That’s what I want.” There are worse futures than turning into a mermaid. “Can I kiss you? I think I’d like to kiss you.”

The mermaid’s face shifts through a variety of emotions, but she seems willing to go with it, because she tentatively smiles back. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good.” Amy brings their lips together, holding Kate close. They fall back into the water once more, the waves sweeping over their heads, but she isn’t worried. She’s not going to drown with a mermaid in her arms.

Silver bubbles erupt around them, and everything is blue, but Amy isn’t dreaming, and it’s wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> Kamy may not be nearly as popular as Wesvis but I will continue writing them because I love them. Also, mermaids.


End file.
